


do or do not

by persimonne



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Amputation, Amputation Kink, Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, F/M, Facials, Fisting, Fix-It of Sorts, Force Bond (Star Wars), Implied/Referenced Suicide, Loneliness, No Safeword, References to Depression, Self-Esteem Issues, Stump Fisting, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:08:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26024737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persimonne/pseuds/persimonne
Summary: Rey comes out of the portal leading to the World Between Worlds on Lothal victorious. Leaving a small piece of herself behind is nothing but a pittance in exchange for her other half, her soulmate, the love of her life–Ben Solo.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 18
Kudos: 47





	do or do not

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Beebeereads for the betaing and Beccastanz for the meme!

Rey comes out of the portal leading to the World Between Worlds on Lothal victorious. Leaving a small piece of herself behind is nothing but a pittance in exchange for her other half, her soulmate, the love of her life–Ben Solo.

Stumbling out of the dilapidated Temple, her eyes are burned by the blinding light, and Ben’s black shirt is tightly pressed against what remains of her left hand. She faints into his arms, leaving him scared, helpless, and alone on an unfamiliar planet. Ben is still in shock from her sudden appearance in the middle of a fight against his Knights, her revelation that she’d already eliminated the Emperor, and the subsequent loss of her left hand to the vibroblade of one of the Knights of Ren. He helplessly cradles her limp body, and starts to cry.

“Stay with me,” he whispers against her dirty skin while skimming through the Force to find someone–anyone–able to come to the rescue. 

Ben finds the smallest glimmer after some interminable minutes of despair on another planet, not far from the one where they’re stranded. Opening his heart to the Force, he calls for help, checking from time to time to see if Rey is still breathing. He’s so tired that his eyes are already closing and the temptation to follow her into oblivion is strong, but he needs to remain awake until the help arrives. He looks around, seeing only crops around them extending to the horizon. He sighs, squeezing Rey between his arms and gives up, his eyes closing.

*

Ben wakes up with a jolt upon hearing the unmistakable sounds of his late father’s ship–he almost can’t believe that old piece of junk is still in working order. Rey mumbles something in her sleep, her right hand–her only hand–seeking purchase against the smooth skin of his chest, as if she’s looking for some fabric to crumple. She’s in pain, the vibroblade that chopped off her hand not designed to provide a clean cut. Ben thinks bitterly that he should have had the courage to cauterize her wound with his grandfather’s lightsaber, but he already feels guilty enough as it is. He’s alive because of her, he’s who he is because of her, and finding a proper surgeon and the best prosthesis on the market is the only thing he can do to repay her.

“They’re here!” a feminine voice shouts, interrupting his haze.

Ben is sure that the voice belongs to a tiny woman, as tiny as his mother and equally strong.

“Both of them?” someone else asks.

That's a male voice, and a familiar one at that. FN-2187–Finn, he corrects himself–is the Force-sensitive presence he caught from across the Outer Rim. Even as exhausted as he is, Ben can't help but thank the Force and the mysterious way it works. He remembers a night on Jakku when something, an intuition maybe, told him not to kill the stormtrooper. Force only knew, the stormtrooper would later save him too. Rey begins to fuss, and he lifts her between his arms, slowly emerging from the ruins, into the blinding light.

*

Ben squeezes Rey’s hand as a medidroid works on her injury, cleaning her wound, and patching it up. They can’t implant a mechno-hand right away because this droid lacks the right memory chip for that kind of surgery, but he’s sure that Rey can bear a bit of waiting to receive a new hand. After all, she knows everything about waiting. She’s sedated, but her eyelids move like she’s dreaming. Through the bond, he knows she’s dreaming of him, and he needs to distract himself to not cry like a child in front of Rey’s friends.

The tiny woman is named Rose, and she doesn’t hate him. He’s not sure if Finn hates him or not, but he keeps silent on his chair, looking at him with something akin to curiosity.

“For what it’s worth,” Ben croaks. “I’m sorry.”

Rose nods, offering a tiny smile, while Finn scratches his hair, now gathered in twists on the top of his head.

“You’re here for Rey. We love her, and because of that we’ll tolerate your presence,” he explains. “She was inconsolable after the war ended, numb, almost unrecognizable. She didn’t even want to eat. We tried to discourage her from this fool’s errand, but she’s stubborn, so here we are.”

“ _You_ tried to discourage her,” Rose quips. “I told her from the start that traveling through space and time to save her boyfriend was the right thing to do.”

Ben blinks, his heart skipping a beat at the word _boyfriend._ He’s lost. It’s like the two people in front of him are speaking a foreign language. The war ended? Last he knew, they were in the middle of a battle, the First Order stronger than ever. And then, what did Rose just say about space and time? He’s not sure he heard correctly.

“Wait–” he stammers. “What year is it? Currently, I mean, what year?”

“36 ABY,” Rose answers. “You were dead for a year before Rey could find that passage on Lothal.”

“You should have seen her when she found it,” Finn whispers, worrying his lower lip with his teeth. “It was like the old Rey was back. So we let her go looking for you. We were sure we’d never see her again, but she succeeded, and here you are.”

“She lost her hand for me,” Ben finally crumbles on his chair, the first of many tears running across the hard planes of his face.

The medidroid finishes applying bacta patches to Rey’s stump, and returns to its nook to recharge. 

“She was ready to die,” Rose explains. “She was already dying inside. Next to that, losing a hand is nothing.”

“She tried to explain that dyad thing you have,” Finn said. “If you’re the only thing that can keep her alive and happy, you’re welcome in our home.”

Ben tries to dry his face with a sleeve, but he’s still bare-chested, so Rose gives him a handkerchief.

“Where is home?” he asks, sniffing.

“Hays Minor. We’re rebuilding.”

*

Rey wakes up beneath Ben’s arms, her head cushioned against his chest. He smells bad, reeking of sweat, blood, and fear, but he’s alive. She can finally breathe, her heart soaring; she did it. Sniffing herself, she soon discovers that she smells too, almost laughing at how bad, and waking him up. He’s deeply asleep, orbs dancing between his eyelids, his head propped against one of her cushions–the ones she made using old Resistance supplies. They’re in her room, in Rose and Finn’s house on Hays Minor.

She needs to use the refresher, and her left hand itches, but after extricating her arm from Ben’s chest, when she finally reaches to scratch it, she finds nothing. Only a tightly bandaged stump, covered in bacta.

_Right. This is the consequence of borrowing the Skywalker's name._

One of the Knights of Ren amputated her hand with his vibroblade, surprising her from behind while she was busy battling another Knight. Ben had cried her name, drawing on the desperation of seeing her injured to kill everyone, and caught her in his arms before she could faint from the blood loss. He’d been clearheaded enough to follow her instructions and bring both of them outside the World Between Worlds, but then she couldn’t remember anything. Shrugging, she finally gets in the fresher; the important thing was making it back alive with Ben. Having to make do with just one hand is a small price to pay for finally living.

*

In the following weeks, Ben never leaves Rey’s side. She’s excused from physical labour for the time being, but this doesn’t stop her from tinkering with spare parts, nor does it stop Ben from fretting around her. Despite lacking a hand, she rarely needs him, but he can’t help worrying, and following her around like her shadow. He opens her doors, washes her hair, cuts her vegetables, and using his big, warm hands he dresses and undresses her, amusing her more than anything. She’s not used to this; on Jakku, she would be on her own. On Jakku, she would probably be dead.

He’s told her that he wants to buy her the best prosthesis on the market, that he wants her to see the best surgeon in the Galaxy, but she doesn’t care. She doesn’t see the usefulness of having another medidroid cut her open to connect a cold mechno-hand to her nerve endings. She asks for his belt, his big, black one, and she cuts it in strips to make a harness to attach whatever tool she needs to her stump. In the evenings, she simply removes the harness; she wouldn’t want to use it under the shower–they have a real one, with water–nor while she sleeps with Ben. Touching him with a part of her body that’s not hers feels _wrong_.

Ben has shut their bond closed and is always looking at her with guilty eyes. After a few days, it begins to grate on her nerves. He could still be dead. She could still be dead. But he came back unscathed, while she just lost a limb. Being together is enough to make her happy for the rest of her days, but Ben can’t stop ruining her mood with his broody, pained gaze, his eyes fixed on her stump, without permitting her so see what’s wrong with him through the bond, what ails him in the depths of his heart.

She almost preferred when he wasn’t with her physically, but they were connected in heart and mind. Now it’s like he’s living only to convey his guilt to her like he’s directly responsible that she got hurt fighting to the death against six people. And every time she skims their bond to see what he’s thinking about, she finds a duracrete wall, his most secret thoughts concealed to her.

“I want you to stop looking at me like that,” she tells him one evening after she fucked him into the mattress. 

“Like what?” he pants, still recovering from his orgasm.

“Like you cut off my arm yourself.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, his high cheekbones getting pink. “I’m not.”

“It’s distracting,” she whispers. “I couldn’t come.”

Ben closes his eyes, breathing heavily. Then he’s on her, his hands on her thighs, spreading her open. His nose grazes against her soft pubic hair as his tongue laps at her clit, making her tremble.

“I’m making you come now, then” he whispers before sucking on her nub, but she pushes his head away until he ends up kneeling in front of her, his whole body crumpled in defeat.

“Open the bond.”

“No.”

“Then we’re done,” she declares, closing her legs and rolling away from him, her left elbow seeking purchase on the mattress.

He stops her, his eyes liquid. “Please.”

She shakes her head. He gulps, his eyes roaming across the room and his teeth worrying his lower lips. He’s cornered.

“Open the bond, Ben.”

He remains silent, his gaze downturned.

“Ben,” she murmurs. “I didn’t lose a hand for you to be scared to be honest with me.”

He sighs, lowering his barriers, his brow furrowed and his eyes dark. She immediately starts to slither through his mind, looking for the guilt that’s ruining their days. She finds it already creeping behind images of her, of their love, of her one-handed touch, behind a whole array of _what-ifs_ , and _if only_ s. The loss of her hand won a place of honour between losing his father and his mother. There is the memory of her injury, followed by visions of her surgery, of her showing him two identical black shirts–one from an old timeline filled with grief, the other one freshly laundered and folded. But past the guilt, there’s more.

Ben’s eyelashes flutter, and Rey digs deeper. She finds the memory of their first time, only a few weeks ago. He was too scared to have sex with her–because of her injury–so she had to take the matter into her own hand, making him lie on his back and balancing herself over him with her right palm against his chest. He’d been predictably quick to come, his heart beating like a scared animal’s under her touch. Leaning on her left elbow, she had to touch herself to finally come, his softening cock still buried deep inside her and her fingers dancing quickly on her clit as he looked at her like an acolyte looks at his goddess.

She sees other things then, other visions, other fantasies. She knows they’re not real: they never had sex while she was tied to an interrogation table, nor had he licked at her stump like it was a cock. He’d neither touched nor kissed her there, to be frank, his attentions diverted to her other scar, the one on her right arm. The healthy colour of his cheeks is a telltale sign, and she digs again, divesting him of his last shred of dignity. 

In the last image she finds, the most hidden one, he lies on his back, his legs spread and her left arm buried into his ass almost to the elbow. Ben writhes, delirious, as she fucks him with her stump, but a durasteel wall rises in front of her eyes before she can witness the culmination of his shame: him coming all over himself. His trembling jaw is the last thing she sees before he storms out of the room.

That night he sleeps on the Falcon alone, their bond slammed shut again.

*

Ben returns in time for breakfast. Rey is not great at cooking–Finn and Rose know that already–but she still knows how to hard boil eggs and toast a slice of bread in a flat durasteel pan, so she prepares a few more and pushes a plate towards him. He sits in front of her, gaze downturned and hands closed in fists so tight that his knuckles are white. He doesn’t touch his food.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m a disgusting person. Forgive me, please.”

“Why would you say that?” she asks, spearing her eggs efficiently and methodically with her custom fork mounted on her stump.

Ben frets, his right hand carding through his hair repeatedly, his left hand playing with a napkin. “You’re not repulsed by my–by my fantasies?”

She stops eating, her prosthesis clicking against her plate. “Should I be?”

“I–”

“It’s normal to have fantasies. Dark fantasies. Dangerous fantasies,” she says. “I’m relieved that the guilt is turning to lust. I hate when you look at me like you’re the one responsible for all my woes. You’re not. I’m an adult. I’ve made my choices.”

“I know, but–”

“You would have done the same for me. You did, actually. You died to bring me back. I paid a very small price in comparison." She nods towards her missing hand. "And I did it selfishly, thinking about myself first and foremost. As you can see, I get you and I can manage without a hand."

Ben nods, his eyes full of gratitude.

“I’ve thought about what I saw in your head,” she continues. “When do you want to try?”

Ben pales all of a sudden, then his cheekbones blooming a landscape of pink and red. He tries to speak, but nothing comes out of his mouth and his pupils are so dilated that his warm, amber eyes are now black as the night sky. He’s as readable as an open book. Rey likes that very much. 

“My forearm isn’t much bigger than your cock, and I can take your cock in my ass without problems. We only need time and lubricant. How about this afternoon?”

His face becomes even redder. “Rey, I–”

“I’m going to see Finn after lunch, and if I happen to find you on the bed when I return, naked and ready, I’m going to fuck you with my forearm,” she states. “Do, or do not. There is no try.”

He doesn’t comment, but their bond slowly opens again, its tendrils taking root in Rey’s heart: there’s no shame now, only gratitude.

*

Ben’s heart beats so fast that his whole body feels queasy. He’s still not sure how he ended up deserving Rey, but he’s intent on seizing the moment in case she decides that fucking him with her amputated arm is something she doesn’t really want after all. Preparing himself takes a while, and his cock gets hard as a rock as he thinks about his ass stretched around Rey’s forearm, the line between pain and pleasure so thin that he almost comes on the spot.

_Breathe._

He lies in the middle of their bed, over Rey’s recycled blankets, a cushion and a towel under his ass, and a bottle of lubricant within reach. Rose told him that Rey requested a double mattress right after they moved into that building as if she already knew she was going to bring him back. It took her a year of research, but she succeeded. The thought makes him so happy that he wants to cry–but there’s no time for that, since the door opens with a loud click and Rey arrives. He's ready.

“Good,” she comments drily, closing the door and starting to remove her harness; today there’s a hook mounted on it to help her move her toolbox.

Ben licks his lips, his eyes fixed on her as she finally undresses: she’s the most beautiful creature in the Galaxy. She mounts the mattress, kneeling next to his head, presenting her stump to him: it’s the first time he can look at it close up, and it’s not as intimidating as he thought. He shyly kisses the spot where the three pink raised scars connecting her skin flaps converge, and her breath hitches. He dares to lick at that spot, his heart content as Rey’s short lashes flutter against her cheeks. 

Ben’s glad she’s still sensitive there. The medidroid did a good job despite everything. From now on, he’ll make sure to pay attention to her left arm too; after all, she lost her hand to bring him back. Her skin is warm and soft, and he can’t help kissing it, from scar to elbow, but she soon returns the tip of her stump against his lips and smiles.

“Suck,” she commands, her tongue wetting her lips.

Ben’s cock twitches so hard that a jolt of electricity crosses his spine. His lips open like a rosebud around what remains of her forearm, his tongue eagerly accepting her offer–licking, sucking, worshipping. Is this what Rey feels when she takes his cock deep in her throat? What is considered a disrespectful, domineering act in several corners of the Galaxy feels like reverence to him. She smiles above him, her teeth biting her lips, her eyes luminous and wide fixed on him, fixed on his lips stretched around her forearm.

Ben’s tongue leaves her stump only when something cold–her lubed fingers–probe between his legs, seeking entrance. His gaze never abandoning Rey’s eyes, he moans when she finally breaches him, precum flowing from the tip of his untouched cock. Rey lies down between his spread legs, leaning on her left elbow, and he laments the loss of her arm between his lips with a loud groan. But she soon penetrates his ass with two fingers–she knows he can take three of her slim fingers without a fuss–making him arch his back, his moans only whimpers now.

There is already a mess of precum on Ben's abdomen, sticking to the fine, dark hair covering his groin, and his untouched cock is so hard it hurts. Rey is methodically pressing at his prostate. Her fingers stretch him deliciously, the subtle, burning pleasure of being worked open almost making his head spin. A third finger gets added, and he almost comes on the spot. She stops to let him catch his breath, and then penetrates him again, this time ignoring his prostate and focusing on loosening his ass. This is the sweetest torture and he can’t take it anymore.

“Rey,” he pants, trembling. “Please.”

“You’re impatient,” she whispers against his cock, her wicked tongue stealing a bead of precum. 

“I want–I want–” 

“Yes?” she teases him, her tongue lapping lazily at his length.

“I want you to fuck me,” he whines. “I want you to fuck me so bad Rey, please, I’ve wanted this since forever.”

Rey smiles. “Do you trust me, Ben?”

Ben’s heart skips a bit. Force, how much he loves her, how lucky he feels to have had the privilege to meet her.

“With my life.”

She extracts her fingers from his now relaxed asshole, grabs the bottle of lube, and squeezes a generous quantity on her stump, spreading it with her right hand. They’re about to wade into uncharted waters here, the both of them, so Ben takes a deep breath and opens the bond.

Rey’s feelings overwhelm him. She’s worried, excited, grateful, and behind her stoic demeanor, he can find a giddiness that’s almost childish in its delight. Is her heart so happy every time they have sex? The thought that he voluntarily cut himself off from her feelings to hide his deepest fantasies almost makes him nauseous.

“Ready?” she asks, but he doesn’t need to answer, because she already knows how much he craves her.

The tip of her stump _is_ as big as his cock. And his cock is surely above average, but if Rey can take it like it’s nothing, he _needs_ to do the same. He clenches as she pushes but immediately remembers that he needs to do the opposite, so he pushes lightly until the tip gets in. It burns, but it’s the kind of burn that makes all the hair on his body stand up and his nipples pebble. Rey adds more lube, and he shivers under her, his brain blanking.

There is no bottoming out while getting fucked by a forearm, so she simply pushes a bit more, until her heart almost stops upon seeing how much his muscle is stretched around her. He perceives her worry, her fear, but also her wonder at how much his body can take. Eager to reassure her, to show her that he’s fine, that he can take it, he nods through the bond and she begins to fuck him with her arm in earnest. 

Every nerve ending is on fire, Ben feels like he’s about to die. His cock so red and angry, he’s sure he’s going to explode, that he’s about to come untouched. Rey soon learns how to play him, how to leave him empty and yearning and desperate, only to fill him to the brim, heart, brain, and guts. He feels like he’s found his true purpose. He feels like he’s not a waste of space anymore.

There are tears on Ben's cheeks. Rey pulls out completely, waiting just long enough for his asshole to flutter close, then she penetrates him again, the tip of her stump grazing lightly against his prostate and going deeper until he trembles helplessly under her. Quickening her pace, she almost brings him over the edge, but she stops just short, making him choke on his tears, his spine wracked by spasms. If he doesn’t come soon he just might die.

"You're beautiful," she whispers against his thigh, kissing his creamy skin. "I want to see you coming like this, untouched."

It's like lightning is ripping Ben in half, his mouth wide open in a silent scream as Rey pounds into him. His cock pulsing, he feels his balls shrinking as she pummels his prostate with shallow, rapid thrusts. He's about to come untouched, the only mercy Rey's hand tilting his cock towards his face. It takes less than a second to finally let go, her firm hand a welcomed weight on his shaft as the first drops of cum hit his chest, his chin, his cheeks.

"Good boy," Rey moans, her arm still working him into delirium.

She's tired, but she stops only after the last drop of cum leaves his body, and tears flow again down his cheeks. Ben closes his eyes, letting all the tension leave him as Rey's arm abandons his ass and she starts cleaning first herself, then his face. 

He's still crying as she kisses his eyelids open; her cheeks are streaked with tears as well, and he hugs her, hiding his nose into her neck. She strokes his head with her remaining hand as he seeks shelter in her warmth, his tears wetting the soft skin of her neck. He feels empty, but light, a new purpose filling his heart. Rey lifts his face until their noses touch.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, wiping his tears with her thumb.

“Never been better,” he gulps. “You?”

She simply nods and kisses him. “Happy. But I’ve been happy since I brought you back.”

Ben closes his eyes. “I’m happy to be here.”

*

They reach a compromise about Rey’s missing hand. Ben orders a beautiful durasteel mechno-limb for her, but Rey refuses the operation that would connect it to her nervous system, mounting it on her usual leather harness instead.

“I have the Force, after all,” she gloats, moving her metal fingers rapidly and efficiently. “Why should I get an unnecessary surgery when I can just use the Force?”

Ben gasps. “Are you telling me that both my grandfather and my uncle could have avoided the whole ordeal?”

Rey nods, approaching him with hunger in her eyes. Now that she has two hands again, she can unbutton his shirts. “Exactly… I guess they never thought about that.”

He swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing, the cold of her durasteel fingers making his nipples pebble. “You’re too smart to be a Skywalker.”

Rey’s mouth smashes against his plush lips, her tongue seeking entrance, her teeth nibbling on his delicate skin. “I can make this prosthesis vibrate. Do you want to try it?”

Ben can only nod, his cock already hard in his pants. Being alive is the best thing that happened to him, and he only has Rey to thank for that.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't throw tomatoes at me pls


End file.
